hypnos

Hypnos has your number.

Yesterday occurred mostly in bed. Eight shots of espresso gave me an extra-anxious bit of “normal” around 5pm then I fell asleep at 9pm. I began waking back up at 10:52pm for ’bout hourly bathroom breaks and new, lengthy attempts at calling Hypnos (which must be noted happens regardless of afternoon caffeine). Because I am enterprising, there was a single melatonin left in an old bottle — this allowed me to get back to sleep after each outta bed stubmblebump into the toilet area. I have skipped Gilenya in the morning today and starting evening side effect trials tonight.

DST saw us both up around 9, and I felt okay. In fact, I have already: cooked a delicious dinner, bagged and froze homemade dog food, filled the dishwasher, cleaned up my cooking mess, annnnnd… fatigue. It’ll plateau soon — I should begin to take the short, inexplicable bursts of craving bed as its own aura. Anxiety is now not from coffee, but lies instead in my complete impotency to continue cleaning. Kitchening isn’t done until the coffee pots are set up for tomorrow and the counters are spotless. The floors need a sweep down here, too. And a mop. And everything could use a dusting (that would be before and sweeping, of course). And get that laundry upstairs for hangers. Annnnnnnnd… STOP.

Nothing can happen until I am okay enough for it to happen. I will have now at least proven that my intellect is still intact even if my body fails to be. I think I sat down here when the plateau of this daily “episode” started. More than my fingers can move and I feel the exterior fog lifting; when I get out of a shower my day can start anew and plenty of everything will be accomplished.

Rocket-Espresso-Cup-1I am telling this to myself and will have to hold me accountable because of telling you.

I will also hold myself accountable while enjoying another espresso.

——————EDIT—————–

No, my body is still craving bed. I washed it and brought it back upstairs with its espresso. Perhaps one of the worst things about MS is being forced into a laziness you can neither claim nor enjoy. I still like to think I just need to eat — that I’m dizzy from low blood sugar. That it’s that simple an answer. A mental entanglement like this generally runs in circles and ends up here: Oh, I guess that’s just the MS.

I am going to try not to pick up the phone and dial Nine-Waaah-Waaah. Being a big baby about things makes all those things worse. What other choice do I have except to be kind to myself?

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